A Crisis of Instinct
by Wyndmir
Summary: Anakin struggles to make sense of himself during the chaos of the Republic's last days. His lack of control sets in motion a dangerous turn of events that threaten to consume both him and his beloved master. Chapter 2! Beware eventual slashiness.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Relationships unfold in phases, and Anakin is about to take his first steps into a larger world. Obi-Wan/Anakin.

**Dislcaimer:** I own nothing, claim nothing, make profit from nothing. I am a lowly student with a computer and a cup o' noodles.

**A/N:** Just a little shout-out to all the lovelies who make the realm of Star Wars fandom and Obi/Ani such a marvelous place in which to spend time that should be spent doing homework. ; ) I'm looking primarily at you, Xtine, Temple Mistress, Monchy, Shanobi, and alchemy dream. To quote Brian in _Velvet Goldmine_, "you're stunning, tops, best of the lot." :D

* * *

Exhaustion was an illness not to be borne easily. 

For an illness it was, as surely as a malevolent little virus that squirmed and flitted its way into the bowels of an unsuspecting youngling. Once exhaustion set in, its effects turned cannibalistic; instead of forcing the victim into the darkness of sleep, it gnawed and teased with restlessness and delirium. Exhaustion shut out sleep, batted it away like a repellent. Even the word insomnia sounded like a poison, the bitter fragrance of a night-blooming vine.

These were the thoughts of Anakin Skywalker, the wandering, overly philosophical and stupidly poetic notions of someone suffering from lack of sleep. But there was more. Beyond the sluggish brain functions and irrational musings were the physical manifestations of exhaustion. Anakin ached in every muscle and joint. They were deep, angry aches that reminded him of the low vibrations of a power generator, not the sharp pains of an injury that could be worked out or relieved with a tonic. These aches were his body's way of scolding him, damning him for any number of weaknesses.

"_You look tired, Anakin. Have you been feeling well?"_

"_I'm alright, Master. Just tired of this war."_

"_Aren't we all. But I must confess that if your stamina is suffering, I fear things don't look promising for the rest of us."_

"_Everything will be put to right, Master. After all, you're still leading the charge, strong as ever."_

"_If you think so that's all that matters."_

Anakin swung himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. He hunched over and felt the muscles of his back groan with the stretch. His spine cracked like the dry metal frame of a neglected droid. He gripped his knees and turned painfully to gaze at Padmé. Her small white shoulders rose and fell softly in sleep. Anakin smiled for a moment, but the expression slowly faded as envy crept under his skin. Why should her sleep be so peaceful? Why should anyone's during these hard days?

He straightened himself and pulled on a robe. Every bodily movement left him both drained and nudged further away from rest. He walked stiffly into the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water, only to have his mouth filled with a cold, acrid taste that left him doubly thirsty.

"_Anakin, I was wondering if you would ever show up again. It's been so quiet here I was thinking of getting a felinx to keep me company."_

"_And have another pathetic life form ruin your pristine quarters now that you've finally gotten rid of me? I doubt it."_

"_I hardly 'got rid' of you Anakin. But you're probably right, another hairy, smelly pet might be a bad idea. Still, it is disconcertingly quiet. I guess I could get a music ball or something. You know, I think Qui-Gon kept an instrument of some kind around here. What was it again?"_

"_A Ludurian nose flute."_

"_Was it? How appalling! Well, nevermind that. I've just made some tea. Would you care for some? I've got some sweetner here just for you."_

Anakin stood silently in the suite-kitchen of Padmé's residence. A careful eye would see the slight wavering in his posture, the almost imperceptible unsteadiness of his aching feet and knees. He could hear the whole of Coruscant around him: the hum of the low-hanging light fixture, the wind currents from the traffic of nighttime maintenance vehicles, even the occasional far-off wail of a security siren. It amazed Anakin how much noise could fill a silence. Much to his dismay, his own deepening connection to the Force kept him in contact with a vast wall of dissonance even in these dark hours. Only in meditation could he escape the cacophony, but he had little patience for it (or skill in it, as Obi-Wan was only too fond of reminding him). Sleep, however, would be a welcome second. Wonderful, elusive sleep would transform his stillness into comfort rather than the paralysis that froze his nights and haunted his days.

Anakin felt as though only a small fraction of his brain was working, just enough to place one foot in front of the other. He blinked dry, stinging eyes and ran a dry, clumsy hand through a tangle of hair. His arms hung like weights at his side. This could not continue. For a brief second, the thought of simply dropping dead flickered through Anakin's mind, and the prospect actually sounded like a good idea. He shook his head to distract himself from his own imagination. Dazed and despondent, Anakin walked numbly through the apartment, stole a final brief glance at Padmé, slunk back into his clothes and slipped out the door. If there was any guilt present, it was left at the foot of Padmé's bed, a pitiful and forgotten figment abandoned in a haze of exhaustion.

Anakin started walking.

"_Are you going to sleep all day, padawan?"_

"_Mmmghrrph."_

"_What's that? You don't want to spar today? You'd rather sleep?"_

"_Hmmrumph."_

"_Very well then, I guess I'll just dismantle your lightsaber and donate the parts to the Temple's reserves. It's quite a shame, too, since we went to so much trouble to build it, I really thought—"_

"_I'm up, Master! I'm up. I'm just...not very awake."_

"_This is quite a habit you've developed. When we first met you didn't strike me as a heavy sleeper."_

"_I wasn't."_

"_Anakin?"_

"_Yes, Master?"_

"_Cover your mouth when you yawn."_

"_Sorry."_

"_That's fine. Now keep your eyes open for one moment, I'd like to ask you a question. When were you required to report to Watto on Tatooine?"_

"_Anytime."_

"_When was anytime?"_

"_Any time he wanted me. But if he didn't call before the first sun rose, I had to be up anyway."_

"_Anakin,"_

"_Yes, Master?"_

"_I'm going to make breakfast. I'll call you when it's ready, how does that sound?"_

"_Like I have 15 or 20 more minutes to sleep."_

"_Indeed. Now, make that sleep count. We've got a long day ahead."_

Within a few moments, Anakin found himself on a landing platform in the chill of the night air. The dark of the sky melted over the city's gold and silver lights so that everything took on a slightly murky appearance, almost as if Anakin were staring out a rain-streaked window. He blinked and rubbed his eyes painfully. With the automated movement of a pilot droid, he slid into a open-topped transport and fell away from the building in a lazy downward swoop.

"Destination?" asked the steely voice of the navigation system. Anakin switched the system offline and took over the steering on his own. No need for directions tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating:** PG-13 for now, will increase  
**Period:** Clone Wars, closer to ROTS  
**Pairing:** Anakin/Obi-Wan  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters mentioned herein and this story is not written for profit. yawn

**Summary:** Anakin struggles to make sense of himself during the chaos of the Republic's last days. His retreatto his only true source of comfort sets in motion a dangerous turn of events that threaten to consume both him and his beloved master. Beware light slashiness in later chapters.

* * *

Anakin reached the Jedi Temple in a matter of seconds, or at least it seemed that merely a few moments had passed since he slipped into the transport. The only sensation he could feel was the chill of the night wind on his face. Had he the wherewithal to notice, it might have felt invigorating. 

As it was, however, Anakin didn't feel much of anything. In fact, he felt vaguely as if he were just a frail version of himself, a transparent copy haunting the real Anakin somewhere, or even worse, the fading image left after something real and tangible had finally vanished. One quick howl of wind through the glittering durasteel spires, and he might scatter over Coruscant in a soundless shower of ash.

He felt oddly exposed as he moved through the Temple corridors. The diversity of life composing the Jedi Order ensured that the buildings were never totally quiet; at any hour one could find some kind of activity, from deep meditation to an isolated sparring match. Though the late night hours were generally more peaceful, there would always be the soft swoosh of robes in some remote hallway. Each knight and master worked to seamlessly reconcile his or her own nocturnal habits to a devotion to the Order that was constant as time, unbroken even in repose. The Temple was a vast, intricate time-piece for the Republic: solemn, precise, and always humming quietly with the perpetual motion of its tiny cogs and wheels, the individual Jedi working and living in admirable synthesis.

Anakin felt a bit like he was intruding upon the sacredness of it all. Though his respect for the Temple and its cloaked inhabitants was profound, he couldn't help but feel a bit like an adolescent creeping through the private quarters of the over-achieving older brother.

But was Anakin not the Order's greatest warrior? Everyone, from random senators and chittering bureaucrats to the poor dregs of the lower-levels knew that this Anakin Skywalker was special. The only place for him, therefore, was inside the Temple where others could adequately appreciate, cultivate, and understand his gifts. The intensity of those same gifts, however, kept everyone at a distance.

Even at home, Anakin was alone.

In his early years as a padawan, Anakin laid in his bed in the morning hours, blinking at the ceiling, wishing idly that he was, as he once overheard it said, a "normal" Jedi. His young mind could hardly conceive of such a thing, since the Jedi had always been near mythic creatures. But as he learned the secrets, habits, and realities of the strange commonwealth of which he was now an integral part, the luster wore away and confusion took its place.

Anakin, after all, was above all things ambitious, a trait unbecoming a Knight of the Republic.

More and more, Anakin dismissed the idea that his nature and abilities were the anomaly to be withstood; perhaps the Jedi Order should conform a little more closely to his example instead.

Of course, interrupting a Council meeting to declare himself a harbinger of reform was hardly an option.

Lately, he had taken to keeping to himself, even allowing sullenness to color his interactions and alienate those previously won over by his easy charm and prodigious talents. Even so, his most common reaction to loneliness was to lash out, to dip into his peerless reserves of power and unleash himself in awe-inspiring, unpredictable exercises in the Force.

"_That was quite a maneuver, Anakin. You nearly cut me in half! Have I mentioned how glad I am you're on my side?"_

"_Don't sound so surprised, Master! You taught me that move, remember?"_

"_I'm not so sure about that."_

"_There's just one thing..."_

"_Padawan?"_

"_I...sometimes I feel like...like the Force actually escapes me. Like I can barely hold onto it or where it is leading me." _

"_Those are merely insecurities, Anakin, and baseless ones at that. Trust in the Force to obey your commands, and you will have the potential to use it as no one ever has."_

"_Are you sure that is a good thing?"_

"_Whether it is or not is up to you. Anakin, someday there will only be you and the Force. You will not have me, Master Yoda, the Order, or even the memory of Qui-Gon to sustain you. Even our counsel will fall away to some degree. It is that moment that we are preparing for now, the moment everyone must face alone."_

"_How will I know when that is?"_

"_You will. Everyone always does somehow. It is the will of the Force."_

"_Master?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_I...I don't think I want to be the Chosen One anymore."_

"_I know, Anakin. Believe me, I do."_

Anakin realized that the Temple itself was beginning to have a sedating effect. The lush maroons of the carpeting were muted by darkness. Dark golden guidelights illuminated the way, but only just barely. High-arched windows showcased a velvety blue sky and allowed faint ovals of moonlight to pattern the cavernous interiors. An occasional Force-signature approached Anakin, to be followed a few steps later by another Jedi. Nods would be exchanged, the air would stir gently. Master Fisto walked past without a sound and smiled politely, his black saucer-eyes gleaming as he crossed in front of window.

The young knight was nearly staggering when he reached his destination. He wasn't aware if he used an old entry code or if he opened the door by sheer unconscious willpower, but within a moment he found himself standing in the tiny dark foyer of an apartment shrouded in shadows.

Like a ghost Anakin moved through the apartment, the Force alone keeping him upright and placing one foot in front of the other. The layout and essence of the small residence was beyond familiar, and the soft after-scent of tea leaves settled warmly in Anakin's senses. His eyelids started to sink.

He moved into the final room and found what he had been looking for.

Anakin leaned heavily on the bedroom door.

Through the silvery glow of Coruscant's ambient nighttime light, Anakin could see Obi-Wan asleep on his bed. He was still in a working posture, half-sitting up and head dipped down over his chest. A datapad lay in his lap, his hands resting at either side of the forgotten device. The room was utterly quiet save for Obi-Wan's soft breathing. Anakin himself didn't make a sound. He simply stood for a moment and watched his Master sleep, as if he could some how soak up calm and restoration by merely standing in the same room. His decision to remain still and observe these sacred moments of peace was the first lucid thought Anakin had in hours— but Obi-Wan always had that effect, the ability to clear away the fog and rubble of the day and make things clear.

So Anakin stood and watched.

He effortlessly, almost unconsciously raised his shields so not to disturb Obi-Wan. Truthfully, however, Anakin's powers were expanding at such a rate that the task of concealing himself from anyone, even his Master, was really no task at all. No wonder then, that every step he took entered unknown, isolated territory. Being separated from Obi-Wan's counsel and company was trying, certainly, but wandering into a space where Obi-Wan could not—would not—ever be able to follow him was incrementally taking on the aspect of torture.

Anakin stood as long as was able. His entire body and being were reducing themselves to an inescapable equation to which sleep as the only answer. He obligingly allowed his shields to drop knowing that within a few seconds Obi-Wan would feel his presence and awaken.

In the small pockets of Anakin's mind that still functioned, one voice longed for Obi-Wan to open his eyes and comfort him, another admonished him for intruding upon such a perfect scene.

He was feeling something strange, something inexorably linked with Obi-Wan's proximity, but he couldn't place it and he was too weary to try.

"Anakin?"

Anakin straightened and hung his head.

"Master."

On the outer edges of his dreams, Obi-Wan felt his former padawan. It was a muted, almost neutral presence, but a presence nonetheless, and even in his sleep Obi-Wan knew that the real, physical Anakin was close.

And within the briefest moment of feeling his former padawan near, Obi-Wan fled the dream world and opened his eyes with a clarity and sharpness of perception unmatched among the Jedi.

Anakin could almost sense the mental acuity radiating from his master in light silvery waves, and the feel of it washed over his spirit like water, cleaning him, soothing him, and ultimately reassuring him. Obi-Wan would know how to help. He would have the right words, the best strategy, or the most sage advice on how to halt the nightmares and ease Anakin into rest.

Truthfully, the nightmares alone were the least of the toxins slowly crippling Anakin; much worse was the monotony, the tedium and fear that they would never end. Acceptance would eventually dawn and he would wander through life neither fully alive nor dead.

It had to stop. It had to stop here, at the foot of Obi-Wan's bed.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan's voice was rough with sleep. He cleared his throat once, and aside from his rumpled attire was as alert as if he had just been given the floor at a meeting of the Council.

"I…I'm sorry Master," Anakin began, and as he did his last reserves of strength drained out of him like a sand through a grate.

Obi-Wan instantly felt it, a strange dip in Anakin's Force signature. It was as if he were suddenly somewhere else, as if his spirit flickered and disappeared to some far place to which Obi-Wan had no access. Worry suddenly seized his chest. Anakin took a step forward like someone on the edge of an abyss, and in one movement Obi-Wan was at his side and directing him to the edge of the bed.

"Heavens, Anakin, what is wrong?" Obi-Wan crouched in front of him. Anakin had rested his head in his hands and was slumped forward, an invisible weight unmercifully pushing down until he was almost doubled-over.

The chaos of signals sparking off Anakin's Force signature made Obi-Wan's heart race with anxiety. It felt as if the light of Anakin's essence had begun to short-circuit and blink sporadically, and each time it returned it was a shade dimmer than before.

Obi-Wan reached out, almost frantically, to find the root of the distress, but nothing emerged as an obvious culprit—no illness, no foreign presence, no injury that he could locate through their bond. And yet here Anakin was, on the brink of collapse and barely lucid.

Confusion prompted a sliver of fear to slice through Obi-Wan's mind: Why is this happening? Why, after all that we've been through do I suddenly feel I'm losing him?

Just as panic threatened to shake him out of the moment, Obi-Wan swallowed hard and released his fears into the Force. With himself again centered, he placed his hands on either side of Anakin's head and lifted the young man's face to look him directly in the eye.

"Anakin! What is it? Are you hurt? I'm taking you to the Healers."

Anakin shook his head in weak protest. His eyes looked painfully dry and strained. Tiny red threads of blood spread over them, giving the blue of his irises a strange, vacant quality.

"I'm just so tired." He forced out the words with a whimper. "I just want to sleep."

Anakin rarely confessed to any kind of weakness, save for isolated moments of grumbling he held over from adolescence, and even those complaints were primarily for Obi-Wan's "benefit." Anakin would sigh dramatically into his commlink and whine about how long they had been traveling or how unbearably empty his stomach was, how he _couldn't bear _to go one more second without food. Right on cue Obi-Wan would saunter into another lecture, leaving Anakin to chuckle to himself at how easily his poor master, the great negotiator, could be drawn into a debate. Obi-Wan could silence planetary leaders, construct air-tight treaties, and soothe irritated tempers with unmatched eloquence. Winning an argument with his padawan...that was another matter.

There was something strange, then, about Anakin's request. The simplicity, the heartbreaking honesty of it momentarily set Obi-Wan at ease.

_I shouldn't be surprised_, Obi-Wan scolded himself, _his burden is still too heavy to carry alone. Exhaustion, nightmares...it's a wonder his endurance has carried him this far._

Overcome with sympathy, Obi-Wan flooded their connection with waves of healing and comfort. Anakin leaned forward and let his master take him in his arms, and as he did Obi-Wan felt the writhing, hurtful vibrations of Anakin's Force-signature quiet to a low hum.

Anakin laid his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He closed his eyes. His breathing calmed. The instinct to sleep finally claimed him, and he gave himself over gratefully.

"Come now, there's no need in staying up any longer. Lights, quarter-power." Obi-Wan gathered Anakin up to his feet and ushered him to the turned-down side of the bed. Without a word, Anakin collapsed onto the mattress (squarely upon the abandoned datapad) and was instantly asleep.

Obi-Wan retrieved the small med-scanner from the 'fresher and silently performed one last cursory examination, mainly for his own peace of mind. The device bleeped once modestly, indicating a clear system and overall health.

Obi-Wan frowned. He still wasn't convinced. He pulled a chair to the bedside and placed the back of his hand on Anakin's forehead. Despite the cool of the room, the young man was flushed and his skin was uncomfortably warm, and yet he was not feverish. It seemed instead that he was just overheated, like a long-running machine that remains hot hours after it's been powered down. Obi-Wan tugged off Anakin's boots and loosened his clothes, but Anakin was entirely oblivious.

"Poor boy," he sighed.

He smoothed errant strands of dark golden hair from Anakin's cheek and ordered the lights off.

_Well, I can finish reading the Outer-Rim reports, just as soon as I find my data—oh, Anakin. Your talents to thwart me are limitless, aren't they? _

Obi-Wan smiled fondly.

_Off to the spare room then, I suppose._

Obi-Wan stood to adjourn to the room that had once been Anakin's, and as he did he felt an alarming throb in the Force. Cold metal suddenly closed around his wrist in an unnaturally strong grip. Anakin's artificial hand was pulling him back to the chair.

"Please, don't go. I...I can't sleep if you go."

Even in the darkness of the room Obi-Wan could see Anakin's eyes...they were black and hard, like two small stones shining from the bottom of moonlit lake. He didn't look himself, the desperation didn't sound like Anakin, and those distant, pleading eyes made Obi-Wan's blood run cold.

He gently twisted inside Anakin's painful grip. Perhaps he sensed the discomfort he was causing— Anakin instantly released his master's wrist, but he did not let go completely. Instead he reached out with his living arm and took Obi-Wan's warm hand in his own. The gesture was so plaintive and hopeful that Obi-Wan sat back down without a word.

"Please stay," Anakin whispered. His eyes had closed again and he was sinking back into sleep. "Please, just for a minute."

Obi-Wan's concern returned with twice the intensity as before. He sat on the edge of the chair and lightly stroked the back of Anakin's hand. Rather than lose himself in worry, however, he drew a deep breath and concentrated on aiding Anakin's rest. Deep amber currents of safety and calm flowed out of Obi-Wan to sweep over Anakin, and for the first time in longer than his battered mind could recall, the young knight found peace.

Minutes stretched into hours and the hours crept into dawn.

The great chronometer of the galaxy began to click and hum noticeably as its occupants initiated their morning routines. The vast halls again filled with life and activity, and everywhere in the Temple Jedi busied themselves with matters of duty.

Such was the case in quarters of Master Kenobi: his back straight as he leaned forward in his chair, his eyes closed, his lips murmuring words of wisdom and reassurance.


End file.
